


heaven, help me

by inmoonlightigetseasick



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Good Omens, David is a Demon, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Good Omens AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Stevie is a Witch, patrick is FOND, patrick is an angel, patrick...is... FOND, that's the thesis of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 06:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmoonlightigetseasick/pseuds/inmoonlightigetseasick
Summary: "The small town circuit was no fun for anyone, no matter angel nor demon. It was by far the most dreaded assignment. Finding oneself stationed in these places, one could make friends. Or, make an enemy, and keep them close until the distinction between these things became fuzzy and irrelevant. One could make this a habit, no matter where one went. And then there was the sparkling pleasure of anticipating something everywhere one ended up."David is a demon stuck working in a small town, his longtime rival Patrick is an angel. They shouldn't even get along let alone go into business together, but desperate times call for desperate solutions. Really desperate.





	heaven, help me

**** The small town circuit was no fun for anyone, no matter angel nor demon. It was by far the most dreaded assignment. Finding oneself stationed in these places, somehow simultaneously dreary and yet buzzing with trouble like a pulse beneath the skin, it was all one could do to keep entertained. One could make friends. Or, make an enemy, and keep them close until the distinction between these things became fuzzy and irrelevant. One could make this a habit, no matter where one went. And then there was the sparkling pleasure of anticipating something everywhere one ended up. 

“David?”

“Yeah?” He turned, still a little unused to answering to it, and saw a familiar smirk. Angels shouldn’t be allowed to smirk. Their button faces weren’t suited for it. Teaching by example, he donned an appropriately dark scowl in return, “Oh, it’s you.” 

“It’s nice to see you too. Interesting name you picked this time.”

“I thought I’d go kind of normcore with it. Blending in with the surroundings and all.”

“Is a sweater-dress that has a _mane_ what they consider normal here?”

“I can only compromise so much.”

“I don’t remember a time you’ve ever compromised actually.” 

“I’m sure there was a time.” 

“Was there, though? Within the last century?” It took a moment for him to think, but under the pressure of the angel’s quizzical gaze, he opted hastily for avoidance.

“What’s compromise going to get me here? Wearing workmen’s clothes like you? As if.” He turned away imperiously, and without looking back he knew the angel was laughing at him. He sniffed. “Maybe when Hell freezes over.”

“You know I’ll be first in line to see that.”

“Keep dreaming, then.” He heard the angel chuckle behind him. He was always so goddamn _gleeful_. Didn’t it ever get old? 

“I’m going by Patrick, here, by the way.” 

These fake names were always formalities, but it had been so long that it was just tradition. He supposed it was like having pet names. The idea made his skin crawl a little bit. It also made his cheeks tingle with a kind of pleasant heat. _Patrick_ , he tried the name out in his head. It fit. 

“Mine’s more Biblical than yours. Ha.” 

“I noticed. It doesn’t bother me as much as you think it does.” 

“It’s not about you. Do you guys have like… _irony_ where you come from… or did we invent that?”

“I don’t even remember your real name anymore.” 

“Does it even matter at this point?”

“I guess not.” 

So David shrugged and turned back to the task at hand. The other part of surviving the small town gig was to keep busy. Adopt a human activity, extra points if it was one that would encourage contact, help you exert influence. It was good to keep busy. 

“So, what is this, then?” Patrick turned and looked around, his big eyes blinking with curiosity. 

“It’s my shop.” David turned, he flourished a hand across rows of boxes and piles of half-constructed furniture that littered the modest space. He was kind of proud of it.

“What are you selling, exactly?”

“Cute little human things. To make them come to me. Roaming around here was getting too depressing.” 

He got the idea from the locals. Witches, specifically, with their haphazard shelves full of potions and brews. In an unexpected move, he had decided to forgo the supernatural stock, for the most part. Instead, he had spent some time and used some charm to scour the countryside for industrious little humans that could make artisan goods and products, which it pleased him to put together into orderly rows in a shop of his own. Knowing for centuries his little compulsion for aesthetics and organization, a little spark of recognition lit up the angel’s eyes. 

“That’s a pretty ambitious project for you.” It wasn’t really a question. So David didn’t really have anything to say back. He let a silence hang there instead, until Patrick spoke again.

“I’m supposed to just let you do this?” There was something darker in his tone. But the mirth from earlier was not all the way gone. David supposed he thought it was a joke. 

“Yes?” David watched Patrick’s expression turn sour. So he added, “Pretty please?”

“David, it’s not happening.” 

“But I’m so bored,” he outright _whined_.

“Oh are you bored?” the angel mocked him with false sympathy. It shouldn’t be so easy for alleged forces of “good” to be so sardonic but Patrick managed it to a frustrating degree. 

“Under what conditions would you let me have the store?”

“I’m not making a literal deal with a devil right now.” 

“Oh come on, that’s all we do.”

“No, David. We fight. _That’s_ what we’re supposed to do.” 

“But we called a truce for this assignment! No one deserves to die out here. Not even you.” 

“You deserve to die out here.”

“Take that back, Chicken Little.” 

“For the last time, I don’t understand that nickname.”

“It’s because your wings—they look like—look, it’s a human children’s movie. I don't have time to explain it to you.” Patrick’s increasingly puzzled expression made David grow more and more frustrated. You’d think for the years he’d been on this planet the angel would bother to learn a thing or two about the humans he purported to “help.” 

“David, why would I let you literally set up shop and do your evil bidding? How could I do my job properly if I just let you have that?” 

“You could be my business partner.” 

Patrick laughed, startled. But then he stopped. His brows furrowed and David smiled.

“You’re thinking about it.” 

Patrick shook his head. But that look still hadn’t left his face. His pensive look, David knew it well. Patrick had always had a strategic mind; he had been hard to read and hard to fight. But over the centuries David had come to know how to decipher him. He could almost _see_ the little glittery angel cogs in his head turning. 

“Would it be so bad?”

“It would be well beyond the already inappropriate truce. It would be cooperation.”

“I’m not asking you to do _my_ work, I’m just saying you could… occupy the same space as me.”

“Occupy the same space,” Patrick looked a little queasy at the thought. David rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not contagious, I promise.”

“I’m not too sure about that.”

“Why? Cause you’re thinking about it?”

“I am _not_ thinking about it.” 

“I’ll let you do spreadsheets if you want.” There was a temptation fit for this angel. But Patrick looked more confused than pleased by the offer. 

“You want to turn a profit? What use do you have for human money?”

“I don’t know. There’s a casino nearby.” 

At that, Patrick gave David a scathing look. “I’ll do it if you let me use the money.”

“Aw, you’ll just waste it.”

“I’m going to donate it to charity, to help humans.”

“Exactly. A waste.” 

“Well that’s the deal, David. Take it or leave it.” 

David had to only think for a minute. This store was the only pastime he could think of that could keep him busy enough to distract from the monotony of this town. And more than that, he had come up with the idea himself. He was proud of it, and excited for what it could become. He wasn’t going to let the angel stand in the way of that. 

“I’ll take it, Faust. Can I get it in writing?” 

Patrick looked, for a second, like he regretted every decision he had ever made. But then he seemed to steel himself. “Do you have a pen?”

 

— 

 

Within a few weeks they had set up, and now they prepared for their launch. Patrick had insisted on doing a bunch of boring human things like acquiring a business license and a permit and whatnot. David didn’t see the use of it. If anyone questioned them they could easily make them think differently. But Patrick wanted to play this by the book. He wanted to run an honest business. David supposed his idea was that if he could lay the groundwork for the shop under such goody-two-shoes auspices that there could be a fundamental force of good running through the space, suffusing it with angelic energy. David had a higher tolerance for that stuff than Patrick knew, so it had been a small compromise. Either way, David had insisted on handling everything from the sleek sand and stone colour palette and design, to the name. Rose Apothecary: the angel had said it was ‘just pretentious enough.’ 

“Opening night,” David said, by way of conversation, “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t really get that emotion.”

“I know but you could humour me.”

“Ok then, I’m tingling with anticipation.”

“Alright. You don’t get that emotion. I got it.”

“That’s not how it feels?”

“I mean, you got close but I think tingling is a bit too visceral. I don’t think you meant it like that.” 

“How do you know how it feels, anyway?”

“I make human friends. They love talking about how they feel. At length.”

Patrick wrinkled his nose. “They’re a bad influence on you.”

“I guess that’s why I hang out with you. You know, to balance it out.”

“Do you think I could influence you to open the doors?”

“We couldn’t make them wait for five more minutes? Lines are such a simple yet elegant form of torture.”

Patrick gave David that far-too-familiar exasperated look, prompting him to open the doors, which he did without another word. The people flooded in. He and the angel shared a final glance, and then they got to work. 

Humans were pliable subjects, each in their own unique ways. David took his time explaining to a couple the benefits of introducing massage oils into their bedroom, knowing preternaturally that was where their true problems lay. It so happened that sowing seeds of discord among these small town souls was as simple as selling them hand cream. He couldn’t be sure what Patrick said to them when they finally went to check out, but he noticed the angel had positioned himself strategically as the last face they saw before they left the store. His role among the patrons had its own advantages: far more time for conversation. 

“I promise you Mr. Fletcher, the people at your job have no idea what they’re saying. You look great with long hair. I hardly trust cafeteria workers when it comes to good taste in hair.” 

“No, of course, Lois, cat allergies were just made up by the government’s pro-dog agenda. Your aunt will love the Himalayan scarf.” 

If Patrick overheard his sales pitches, he didn’t show it but for a roll of the eyes. But David was used to those by now. At the end of the day, once all the customers were gone, he sidled up to the cash register where Patrick was dutifully logging and double checking their sales. 

“Did we make enough money? Are the orphans going to get a new house?” 

Patrick gave him a long-suffering look, “we did very well.” 

“No thanks to you, I saw you talk the Wrights out of buying the massage oils.” 

“I gave them a reference to a couples counsellor instead.”

“Costing us forty dollars.” 

“But, saving them their marriage.”

“Oh please, that was doomed from the start. No amount of therapy will help.” 

“It might not. Or it might. It’s up to them. I have faith that they can work it out.”

“You really don’t spend enough time around humans.” 

Patrick looked at him for a long time, a time that felt strangely meaningful, but it made David squirm a little. And maybe that’s what Patrick wanted. 

“You know,” he said, finally, “I think you were right about the store thing.” 

“Oh wow, maybe Hell _has_ frozen over.” 

“I’m just saying. There are about… four places to go in this town to find humans. At least we have our own.” 

“Is this _our_ place, then?”

“As impossible as it sounds.”

“Well, I can’t say I ever saw myself ending up in this kind of arrangement.” 

“I never thought I’d trick a demon into doing so much good, either.” 

“So selling foot cream makes me Mother Theresa, now?”

“No but, like I said. It’s a small town. You’ve brought something to these people. You’ve grown their community. It’s a net good.” 

“A bold claim. You do know that I’ve been selling them lip balms and teas full of hexes, right?”

Patrick paled a little. 

“You remember how you gave me full control of the creative decisions, right?”

“Where did you even get—hexes? David?”

“Witches. Duh. Where do you think I get any of this crap?”

“Witches.” Perhaps he had referred to them as _locals_ , but to be fair, that’s what they were. 

“This place is literally full of them.” 

“Anyone in particular?”

“Why, are you jealous?”

“No, but I might see about nipping this in the bud.”

“Ha, so you do know her.”

“Know who?”

“Stevie Budd, the aforementioned witch, my supplier.”

“I know her, now.” And Patrick pushed past David, making his way for the door. 

“Ok, be gentle with this one, though, I like her.” 

“I’m sure you do, David.” 

 

 

—

 

Witches lived generally very solitary lives. Among the trees, the collected animals and insects and other mostly silent creatures for company. They studied and gathered and tended the plants on the forest floors. By moonlight, they took shelter under the canopy and shrouded themselves in mysteries of their own making, and they were shielded effectively from unwanted eyes. Most of them even opted to work on farms and as rangers to stay as close as possible to the nature from which they purported to draw their power. 

Stevie wasn’t like most witches. Which is why Patrick found himself pulling up to a run-down motel at the edge of town. When he opened the door to the main office, loudly, conspicuously, the dark haired woman at the desk remained nonplussed, and barely looked up from reading an old, leather-bound book. 

“Hello?” he prompted, but she still seemed not to hear him. It was then that he noticed the two white earphones plugged into her head. He sighed. He walked up closer. There wasn’t a bell or anything on the desk. 

“Hi?” he tried again. This time she looked up. 

“How many nights?” she asked.

“I’m not here to book a room.”

“We deliver the towels in the mornings.” 

“I don’t have a room.”

She furrowed her brows and pulled out her headphones then. 

“Well then I’m sorry your wife ran away but we don’t give out the personal information of guests around here.”

“Look, it would probably be best if you stopped trying to guess what I need from you.” 

“Okay, then what is it?”

“Have you been supplying cursed skincare products to my business partner?”

“I supply… for a lot of people. Who’s your partner?” 

“David Rose?” 

“Oh, yeah,” suddenly she laughed, “I do.”

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re Patrick.” 

“He… told you about me?” 

“Well, I won’t repeat what he said, but I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” 

“Okay… well, can we agree that you’ll stop selling—“

“He dresses funny, doesn’t he?”

“What? Oh David, yeah. I suppose he does.” 

“I wonder about him, you know. He just blustered into town one day, looking like that, and then you opened your store.” 

“Well you know this town, it has a lot of potential for growth.”

“No it doesn’t.” Stevie gave him a strange look. 

“Have you ever seen him in that one sweater? The one that has a mane?”

“Not as bad as the grey leopard print one.”

“I kind of like that one.” He had a fond, hazy memory of it. 

“I spilled some love potion on that once, and he almost threw a fit.”

“Did he do the thing where he leans his head back—”

“As if his cringe is powerful enough to move his whole body. Yes.”

“There’s no one else quite like him.” Patrick said, unable to hide the fondness in his voice. Stevie seemed to regard him carefully.

“You know he lived here for a while.”

“In the motel?”

“I think it might have been before you got here. He was just whining and moping a lot. Made my job a lot harder.”

“Well, I was happy to take him off your hands.”

“He seems really happy now.” 

“He’s always happy to be a pain in my ass.”

Stevie laughed then, loud and bright. “I like you. You’re good for him.” 

“Well, I try my best.”

“Look, none of my potions cause any lasting harm.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m really not that good of a witch. I told David they’re way worse than they are so he’d get off my back. And also so he wouldn’t go to other witches who actually do mean harm.” 

“You managed to lie to him?”

“Come on, Patrick, I know he’s your partner but he’s not that bright.”

“I guess not.” Patrick was impressed. 

“So… if we’re all good then, I should probably get back to my work.” She gestured at the books. He caught a glimpse of the complex runes and diagrams inked onto the rough pages splayed out on her desk. He didn’t like it, but somehow he found her trustworthy. There was something about her, maybe he saw it in the selflessness of her taking in a depressed demon. Despite her affinity for the dark arts, fundamentally, she was good. 

“Yeah. Sure.” He turned to leave, but then he turned back. “If you ever want to come by the store, I think David would get a kick knowing you and I talked about him behind his back.”

“Invitation accepted.” 

 

—

 

It was an exceptionally slow day at the Rose Apothecary. This was not to say business was booming, but their opening had given them hope. They had yet to see a crowd that big since then. The sun was beating down on the town with a surprising viciousness and yet the townspeople were nowhere to be found. David stood in a patch of sunlight and stretched out his wings behind him. They were a deep, pure black and they absorbed the rays of light into a kind of darkness that looked close to nothingness. He crossed his arms over his chest. All they had to show for themselves today was a balding man currently idly reading the labels on every hair product they carried. He took his time in the back of the store. David supposed he’d go help him in a minute, or maybe he’d give Patrick a shot to fight for him. Though with the amount of insecurity that man was carrying, it would be an easier job for David. 

“Shouldn’t the people be out frolicking and shopping right now? Am I missing something?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re busy.”

“It’s a weekend.” When met with silence, David turned to see Patrick staring at him with a grimace.

“Can you put those away?”

“Why? The humans can’t see them.” 

“Well, I can. And they’re blocking my sun.” David obliged, folding them close against his back. But he was still going to pout about it. 

“What do you have against wings?”

“I have nothing against _angel_ wings.” Patrick said, and stretched out his own. David stared, momentarily awestruck at the sheer expanse of them, and their bright downy whiteness. His fingers itched suddenly to reach out and touch them. He clenched his fist, purposefully feeling the metal bite of his rings, in the effort to resist their charm. They always had a way with him. 

“Yours are so dark, it’s unnerving,” Patrick added, looking a little too pleased and all too aware of the wings’ effect on David. He attempted to bristle, but just ended up pouting even more. 

“I happen to like the colour of my wings.” 

“I don’t care about the colour. I meant their energy.” His own wings fluttered impassively, as if to imply that he was above vanity. David supposed he was. Technically. David had never made such bold claims himself, so he ogled the flippant movement of the vast stretch of snowy feathers, as if Patrick had meant it for him. 

Without thinking he spoke. “I bet you wish yours were blue.” 

“I’m happy with what I was given, thank you.” 

“Me too,” David said, and he pressed his lips together to keep from smiling too wide. He had gotten the reaction he’d wanted, a sudden pink flush of the angel’s cheeks. Now, that was appropriately cherubic. 

“Go help that customer, David.” 

“A freebie? Remind me to compliment you more often.”

“David,” he said his name in a warning tone, but David heard fondness hidden in his voice. 

“Really, Patrick. I have a lot to work with, it’s not difficult,” he gave him a wink and turned to his task. But he couldn’t resist turning back one more time. 

“Though I preferred when you kept your hair curly.” 

He had finally exasperated the angel enough that he turned and went into the back. David eagerly turned to the customer and set himself to work. After the customer was gone, the angel emerged again, and David was mortified to see brought an acoustic guitar with him. 

“I know it’s not exactly a harp, but I felt like it made more sense in this context,” Patrick explained, staring back quizzically at David’s expression. David quickly schooled his features. 

“And why have you brought this out?”

“I had an idea on how to drum up some more interest in the store.” 

“You’re going to busk? Somewhere far from here?” David asked, hopeful. 

“I was thinking we could host an open mic night.” 

David couldn’t hide the impulse to cringe as it overcame him. “Are you being ironic?”

“David, I think it could be fun!”

“How can you get on my case about liking human things when you are proposing we entertain the very worst humanity has to offer?!”

“It’s just some songs and poetry, maybe some improv, what’s so bad about that?” 

“Okay, you didn’t say _improv_ was going to be on the table. You know we use that down there as a form of very effective torture?” 

“So you should feel right at home.” Patrick smirked and strummed his guitar. David’s eyes followed the motion of his hands. 

“Are _you_ going to play something?”

“Why not? I’m the host after all. And some people say my voice is rather _heavenly_.”

“Please tell me you’re being ironic this time.”

“I’m not sure I am being ironic, David, but you seem good at it. Maybe that can be your act for the show.” And with that Patrick turned away, strumming his guitar all the way to the back room. David stood there, frozen for a second before he moved to follow him. 

“So I assume your act is going to be stand up comedy,” he called after him. “Please tell me it’s stand up comedy.” 

 

—

 

People were packed into the store the night Patrick had resolved to decidedly not perform stand-up comedy. David had to hand it to him, the idea had really brought people to the store. He supposed they were desperate for entertainment wherever they could find it. And, he figured, the Romans watched people fight to the death in gladiatorial combat for entertainment. Human tastes had hardly changed, so it seemed they were always up to see a massacre for spectacle. 

“You’re sure about this?” David winced as he watched Patrick fiddle with his guitar. Stevie stood next to him and patted his back reassuringly. Well, condescendingly. 

“David,” Patrick said, looking at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “It’s going to be fine. You know people tell me I have the voice of an angel.” With that he winked at David, who covered his face with his hands and leaned backwards, trying to reign in the force of his anxiety in this moment. 

Patrick was up at the mic. “Alright, how is everyone feeling tonight?” The crowd cheered in anticipation. 

“We have a great lineup of talent this evening. So I’m gonna give them a pretty easy act to follow.” He paused for emphasis. “Yours truly.” The crowd laughed. David’s face was still wincing, bracing himself for what was to come. 

“I think this is really sweet,” Stevie whispered to him. 

“Well, I think Patrick has a death wish.” And Patrick proved him right. 

“This song is dedicated to a very special individual.” David screwed his eyes shut. Okay, maybe Patrick would have some mercy. When he tentatively opened one eye and looked at him, he leaned into the mic and looked at David dead in the eyes. 

“My business partner, David Rose.” 

Every pair of eyes in the room flitted over to him. He smiled weakly, for their benefit. Soon, the gentle strumming of Patrick’s guitar reclaimed their attention, and David was mercifully released from their gaze. It was not that he didn’t like attention, when it was intentional and individual, David craved it. But he had never been one to be the centre of attention in a crowd, for all his theatrics he wasn’t a performer. He clutched the drink in his hand and looked down focusing on the warm glint of light reflecting off his rings. 

“ _I call you when I need you, my heart’s on fire_ …” As soon as Patrick began to sing, as if magnetically, his head turned to look at him. His voice _was_ genuinely beautiful, and soft. It was probably full of magic David couldn’t even fathom, and in tendrils it was wrapping itself around his heart and holding it, firm and sure, like Patrick. 

He let the rest of the song wash over him, barely registering the knowing way Stevie was smiling at him. And he thought about the angel. And he thought about his wings. And he thought about his voice. And he realized he was a little bit in trouble. 

The next morning he walked into the store, feeling disembodied. He didn’t take his sunglasses off right away as he walked in, and when Patrick spoke to him, he jolted. 

“You’ve got an angel on your sweater today.”

“It’s what the kids call irony, remember?” He laughed, but it was a little shaky.

“If only the kids really knew about you.” 

“I may have told some local ruffians. To scare them.”

“And they believed you?”

“Well conceptually, I think they were there with me. It was just that their emotions didn’t manifest into fear so much as sort of a generalized nervous reaction?”

“Right.”

“Okay. Fine. They laughed at me. They laughed at me the whole time, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Oh, you know it was.” David had had enough of his smiling. His unabashed _glee_. It was doing things to his insides that he was entirely unfamiliar and uncomfortable with. 

“I wish you would stop finding me so _delightful,_ ” he snapped.

“I can’t help it. That’s what you are.” 

“That’s not what I’m supposed to be.” 

“When have you ever cared about that?” 

“I don’t care about _other_ people.” He tried not to think about how that sounded. If Patrick caught any extra meaning he didn’t show it. There was a long stretch of silence until Patrick spoke again.

“I find you amusing, that’s all.”

“Oh, amusing. Okay. I’m just one big joke to everybody, then.” 

“Come on, David, it’s not that.” 

“Then what is it?”

“You don’t exactly fit in, here.”

“Oh, just because I’m trying to bring some style into this drab town, suddenly makes me a misfit?”

“Yes. No one really cares about style here. It’s not a smart cover.” 

“Who said I wanted to blend in? Maybe I wanted to stand out, you know, to be more alluring.”

“Alluring?”

“You try resisting this.”

“Oh, I am.”

“Badly.” 

“What is it that you always say? Oh yeah. A bold claim.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not the one who serenaded _you_.”

“Obviously, I did that to embarrass you.”

“Well, you achieved that at the same time as you confessed your undying love for me.” 

Patrick laughed, but there was a hesitation in it that set David’s heart aflame with a dangerous sort of hope. “Yeah, right,” the angel said, but David was unconvinced. 

“I was surprised at your song choice, though.” 

“Why, because it wasn’t one of the thousand human songs revolving around the word ‘devil’”

“Well, no, I’m glad it wasn’t because that would have been a bit too on the nose, don’t you think?”

“So then what was surprising?”

“That you picked one of my favourite songs.” 

“It wasn’t Mariah, though.”

“No, it’s probably for the best you didn’t attempt Mariah. Might have gotten you the opposite result.”

“And what result would that be?”

“As if you don’t know.” 

“If you’re so convinced there was something else to my song, then I want to hear you say it.” 

Then the bell chimed, and human idioms never rang truer to David’s ears. 

“Can’t right now. Customer. But you’re smart. I’m sure you can figure it out.” He twisted his lips to hide his smile, which threatened to take over his face. An ex had once told him he looked terrifying when he smiled like that and so he had done it far less often ever since. But Patrick had always made it difficult. And David didn’t have time right now to analyze why he needed to not look terrifying in front of Patrick, why he wanted to look good for Patrick. And, no, the sweater had no ulterior meaning. 

 

—

 

Now that the three of them were friends, Stevie had a way of arriving at the store unannounced, and jumping into a conversation _in media res._ David had gotten so used to it by now, he barely looked up from where he was restocking the skincare sets when he heard the familiar jingle of the bell and the strong citronella scent of her followed. 

“So, I have a bit of a problem.”

“And?” 

“And I was hoping you guys could help me out.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Because I’m your friend?”

“When did we establish that, exactly? And does that mean you’ll give me discounts on your potions now?”

“We established that when I dealt with your pathetic weepy ass in my motel for two months.” 

“Right, I thought that was more like one of those freely given favours or whatever crap Patrick teaches you all to do.”

Patrick entered the store at that moment. “Speak of the angel,” David said with a smirk. 

“What?”

“Someone’s trying to kill me, and I’m trying to ask for your help!” 

David and Patrick looked at Stevie, united in shock. They spoke at once. 

“Who’s trying to kill you?”

“You never mentioned that!”

Stevie looked at David, “I was getting to it! You would hardly let me finish!”

“Stevie,” Patrick drew her attention back, “why do you think someone is trying to kill you?”

“So you guys know my aunt Maureen?” Stevie looked at David and Patrick’s baffled expressions, “Of course you don’t know aunt Maureen.”

“What did you do to her?” David sounded a little bit too eager to know. 

“Nothing! She died. I didn’t kill her.” 

“Definitely not something her murderer would say.”

“David, I’m sure she didn’t kill her aunt,” Patrick admonished, “Let’s let her finish. What did you do?”

“Okay, first of all, this isn’t Salem, it’s Schitt’s Creek, so I’d appreciate it if we stopped with the witch trial for a second.” 

“To be fair though, the one where they throw you into a lake to see if you’ll float is kind of fun.” 

“Oh, you wanna go try that out?” Patrick said, furrowing his brow as he looked at David, completely and openly fond. Stevie was getting impatient now. 

“Guys! Could you stop flirting for one second so we can discuss my imminent death?”

“We’re not flirting,” Patrick said, at the same time as David said, “Go on, then.” 

“Maureen left me a bunch of her old spell books in her will, and I was going through them to see if I could find the one she had that could summon your exes so that you could talk to them if you had unfinished business or something.” 

“Why would you need a spell like that? Couldn’t you just call your ex up?” Patrick asked. David scoffed at him, as did Stevie.

“Relationships are complicated. Sometimes your ex tells you they’d rather be consumed by twelve thousand fire ants than ever speak to you again, and sometimes you tell your ex that they would have to literally grow a new head before you considered seeing them again,” Stevie explained. 

“So is your ex trying to kill you?” Patrick asked, a grave look taking over his face. 

“I wish.”

“Something went wrong with the spell?” David guessed. 

“It turns out that Maureen, in an attempt at an inside joke with only herself, labelled a spell for summoning giant hell hounds a spell for bringing back an ex.”

“I assume that ex must have been a real bitch, then,” David laughed. He was met with stony expressions from Stevie and Patrick. “Tough crowd,” he muttered. 

“As I was saying, I summoned the giant hell hounds, and if that wasn’t bad enough, their owner came looking for them.”

At this, David’s smirk dropped off his face. “You’re kidding.” 

“I wish I were.” 

“What am I missing here?”

“Well, Stevie,” David did his best to keep his voice from shaking, “Aunt Maureen’s spell did manage to conjure an ex after all,” he grimaced. “Mine.”

 

—

 

When they pulled into the motel, the situation was worse than David had imagined. 

“Oh thank God,” Patrick breathed a sigh of relief, “he’s restrained the hell hounds.” The three of them were on leashes that he held wrapped around his wrist, they were diminished in size, looking like average human rotweilers. But a careful eye would notice the red glint in their eyes, and how the spittle collected in their mouths crackled with electricity. 

David looked at the angel, “Have you lost your mind? This isn’t good. He’s in control of them now.” 

“And he’s going to sic them on me,” Stevie said, convinced, “for stealing them. Or summoning them. Or whatever.”

“No, he’s not Stevie.”

“Then what is he going to do? Why is he just waiting there?”

David looked at his ex, who had spotted him in the car. He looked different in this human body. He was tall, with tousled brown hair, and a sweater that made him look like he was wearing human sleep clothes outdoors. Through the car window, they made eye contact. That was when David was one hundred percent sure. 

“He’s here for me.” 

“That’s ridiculous,” Patrick said immediately, but there was an edge to his voice, like he was scared or something. David shook his head. Patrick asked, “What does he want you for?”

“I don’t know. Revenge. Reconciliation. Maybe this is a booty call.” 

“Somehow I highly doubt that,” Stevie chimed in.

“There’s only one way to find out,” David said as he got out of the car. Patrick followed him but admonished Stevie, “you stay here. Let us handle this.” 

A low hum of panic began in David’s chest as he approached. “What are you doing here?” 

“Aw, that’s it David? No greeting? Can’t I get a little kiss? It’s been so long!” The hounds circled his feet, their midnight black fur glowing with a low flame. They snarled and barked at David, looking like they could break out of their flimsy leather leashes at any second.

“Sebastien. I’m not going to ask again. What are you doing here.” 

“Easy, easy,” and David wasn’t sure if Sebastien was addressing him or the dogs. “Oh, David, as if you don’t know I’m here for you. I missed you, baby.”

David scoffed, “I’m not going to fall for that one again.” 

“Oh, no? What are you going to do this time, sic your _angel_ on me?” The hounds suddenly began barking at earnest, and David whirled around to see Patrick had come up behind him.

“Go back to the car, Patrick, I can handle this,” David said tersely. 

“Yeah, _Patrick_ ,” Sebastien sneered, “David can handle me just fine.” 

“Shut up, Sebastien. Patrick, I’m serious.”

“Don’t be stupid, David. I’m just here in case things get out of control.” 

“Bold of you to assume they were ever in control.” 

“I’m sorry, that’s my fault.” Now Patrick and David whirled around at Stevie’s voice. 

“I told you to stay in the car!” Patrick shouted at her. 

“Listen, folks, as cute as this all is, I’m on a schedule here, and these guys are hungry, and far more impatient than I am.” The snarling and barking and jumping of the dogs increased and the flames on their pelt suddenly flared out towards them. David flinched back, and instinctively blocked Patrick and Stevie with his arms. 

“Stay back, please,” he said to them, his voice edging on desperation. “I’m serious, I can handle this.” 

Patrick looked at him for a minute, his expression indecipherable, but mercifully he took Stevie and they backtracked towards the car. David noticed they didn’t get in it, instead they huddled behind a closer one. He rolled his eyes but turned back. 

“Sebastien, please can we cut to the chase?” 

“Fine. You have something of mine, and I want it back.”

“What could I possibly have of yours?”

“My disk.” 

“I destroyed that. In front of you. A century ago!”

“Not all of it.” 

“What are you talking about? It’s not usable in pieces.” 

“So you have it.”

“No, I don’t, I destroyed it and got rid of it.” 

“Okay, so you’re not going to tell the truth.” Sebastien twisted the leash that held his volatile dogs slowly, looking at his hand as he did it. 

“Sebastien. Be careful with those.” 

“Oh, like you were careful with my disk?”

“That happened literally a hundred years ago, can’t you let it go?”

“Okay, David. Take your friends and run.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m about to let it go.” 

“Stevie! Patrick! Run!”

“We can fight him!” Patrick argued. “Let’s just call for backup.”

“Not here, you’ll destroy my motel!”

“Fine! Get in the car!” Patrick shouted, as he and Stevie made their way towards it. But as they neared it, Sebastien waved his hand, and the car exploded. David heard himself scream, but couldn’t be sure what he said, as he watched Patrick and Stevie duck for cover. He ran towards them, pulling them away from the wreck. The tenseness in his body only let up once he saw they were okay, as they got up and dusted themselves off. 

“Okay,” Patrick panted, “he’s more powerful than I thought. I can fight him though, if I can get my hands on a blade.” 

“Where are we going to find you that?”

“I have one in the shop.”

“So then summon it.”

“I locked it away,” Patrick admitted, sheepishly, “so David couldn’t get into it.” 

“So?”

“I have to be physically there to get it.” 

“We don’t have time to go back to the shop,” Stevie argued, “but I think I know where we can get something. Follow me.” 

“This head start isn’t going to last forever,” Sebastien taunted. 

So, they ran into the woods behind the motel, following Stevie’s lead. David tried desperately not to lose track of Patrick and Stevie as they ran. They could hear the dogs getting closer behind them, and Sebastien too. 

“What on earth!” Patrick shouted, unfurling his wings, flapping them uselessly, “Why don’t these work?”

Stevie called back, “There’s a barrier over these woods, all forms of otherworldly power are severely limited here, everything other than witchcraft.”

“I understand David’s ilk,” Patrick panted, “but why did they angel-proof it?”

“Witches aren’t on either of your sides! It’s not for the whole forest though, where we’re going, you’ll be back to full power.”

“Where is it exactly that we’re going?” David panted, “Because I don’t think I can keep going much longer.”

“There’s a cabin I have up here,” Stevie yelled, “It’s just beyond the barrier. I have spells there, and weapons.”

“Weapons. Good. Weapons good,” David ran with a singular focus. 

When the cabin came into view, it did not give David any immediate hope for safety. A haphazard pile of wood in the middle of the forest, it looked dark and jagged and fragile. David worried Sebastien’s hellhounds would knock it down with just their breath. 

When they made it to the door, Stevie struggled with the lock, and David nearly lost his mind. 

“Stevie, the overwhelming time pressure!”

“I know! Oh my god.” 

“You don’t need to bring _Her_ into this.”

Then the door finally opened. But they could hear Sebastien and his dogs nearing still. They would have to work fast. Stevie led them to the back of the house, where a cellar door opened into a dark chamber. 

“This is disgusting, how do you live like this?” David pinched his nose shut, and held it aloft, as if to distance himself from the mildew and dust. 

“Aren’t you literally from hell?”

“I am. Which is why this is a worse indictment of your messiness than you think.” 

“Guys, let’s just focus,” Patrick said, “They’re close.”

They made their way deeper into the cellar, where Stevie shoved aside crates and bags and cobwebs, making her way towards a collection of cardboard boxes. 

“These are just more of your spellbooks,” David complained, “What am I going to do, whack Sebastien with it?”

“No, I’m going to find something in here and send him back where he came from.”

“You can do that?” Patrick asked.

“As long as I can find the spell. You two check the other boxes, I have swords and maybe a crossbow— don’t ask, I was going through a phase—just hold him off until I can get it ready.”

Without another word, even though he had many other words to say, David searched the boxes for the weapons. He pulled out a long, curved sword, and several straight daggers. He looked over and Patrick was handling something that looked like it came straight from the 1300s. The length of the blade was nearly half of Stevie’s height, but the angel wielded it with ease. David hated to say that he was impressed, but he would be lying if he said otherwise. 

Then the roof above them began to shake. And David realized, they were in a cellar. So really, it was the ground that was shaking. 

“Let’s go,” Patrick said, and they made a swift exit upwards. Running around to the front of the house, they found Sebastien and his dogs waiting for them. 

“Are you ready to give back what you stole?” he asked. 

“It’s gone, Sebastien, and you’re going to have to deal with that.” 

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll deal.” and with that he waved his arms and the hell hounds descended. 

David tried first flinging the curved swords at two of them, but they just caught them like sticks and then ran towards him, he supposed even dogs from Hell liked to play fetch. From the corner of his eye he saw how Patrick handled the third one with a bit more grace, it disappeared into a cloud of yellow dust. Back to where it came from. David tried not to be too distracted, which wasn’t difficult because the two hell hounds at his feet were very insistent. He tried to use the smaller daggers, but they were agile and quick, they dodged them easily. 

David was at a loss. This is why he was a cat person. The dogs snapped and bit at his ankles, everywhere their teeth touched left a tiny burning sensation. But it hurt no more than a bug bite. He tried swatting at them, and he tried shooing them, but they were insistent. They still weren’t really attacking him like he knew they could, but that’s probably because they recognized who he was. That was why he felt bad hurting them. He wasn’t sure what else to do. Finally, seeing him struggling, Patrick came up and scooped the creatures up, one in each hand, if the fire was a mere irritant to David, then to Patrick it was nothing more than holding a hot cup of coffee. So, with some kind of magic touch, they disappeared into yellow dust in his hands as well. He clapped them together, coughing in the emerging cloud that resulted from his action. 

With the dogs gone, Sebastien finally advanced. He had been waiting, and just observing. All of this was just a game to him, a waste of time. Maybe he was resting and charging his energy, maybe he just wanted to see David and an angel run around like headless chickens. It was possible all of these things were true at once. His evil contained multitudes. 

“Okay, I see if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. That’s fine. You know I love a little challenge.” 

“I’ll show you a challenge,” Patrick piped up. He pushed David out of the way and faced Sebastien head on. David didn’t have the time to explain to him how bad of an idea this was, but he trusted Patrick’s power more than he did his own. There was no way Sebastien had anything that could do him real damage. But then again, it had been a century since David had last seen him. 

“Oh will you challenge me, angel?”

Sebastien dashed towards Patrick, at an impossible speed, swinging his blade. Patrick met it easily with his own and the clanging of the metal echoed through the forest. David heard a hiss and chanced a look behind him where Stevie was gesturing from the door. 

“You need to lead him inside here, I can get a portal open.”

“Got it.” David took a deep breath and braced himself. “Hey! Sebastien!” he shouted. “Leave him alone, it’s me you want!” 

Sebastien turned briefly at the sound of his voice, and it was long enough for Patrick to chance a quick stab with his sword. But Sebastien was fast, and he twisted away from the blade. And before David could blink, or turn, or think, he jabbed his sword in Patrick’s direction. Normally it wouldn’t be an issue, most blades couldn’t harm angels, but this time, Patrick cried out. The blade made a sick noise, and Patrick fell to the ground, more in shock than anything else. David saw his hand press to his side, and when he took it away, it was red. 

_Okay,_ David thought _, act now, panic later._ But that would mean adding more panic to the already steady thrum of panic that he had been ignoring from the moment Sebastien had come back. 

“Come on,” he said, miraculously without his voice shaking, “If it’s the disk you want you’ll have to get me!"

“That can be arranged,” Sebastien said, his attention adequately distracted from Patrick. He bounded towards David, who ran into the house. Sebastien was quick on his heels, and David had no idea where anything in this cabin was, so perhaps this wasn’t the most well thought out of plans. He saw the rickety staircase and ran up, hoping against hope that the structure wouldn’t crumble underneath him. When he made it up he headed into the first room he saw. But that was a mistake, as the only window in the room was boarded up. And Sebastien had caught up to him now. 

This was bad. David looked to either side of him, there was no way out. The door was behind Sebastien, but he was glowing now with a red-hot intensity, and he wielded the blade that had earlier injured _Patrick_. It was no joke. He advanced slowly, and David saw his options rapidly running out.

“Okay Sebastien, can’t we talk? I’ll go away with you, I’ll help you find another disk.”

“You know that was the only one.”

“What do you need it for anyway?” David tried to stall. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blue appear in the doorframe. It couldn’t be Patrick, he was hurt. It had better not be Patrick. But he couldn’t divert his gaze. 

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you? You just want all the answers.”

“Well, if I’m going to tell you where I buried it, I at least want to know what I went to all the trouble for.” 

“Aha! I knew you didn’t destroy it, you little—”

“Patrick, now!” Suddenly Stevie’s voice sounded from somewhere, it echoed through the room, and time slowed down. David saw that flash of blue, it was Patrick, come up and grab Sebastien, and wrestle away his blade. David jumped forward to try and help but before he could Patrick had wrenched Sebastien out of the room, pulling him out into the hallway he threw him over the railing, where Stevie stood at the lip of a giant purple portal. 

David gazed down into the swirling purple abyss and Sebastien’s startled expression, as the force of the whirlpool sucked him in, and in fact, started sucking everything in. David held on to the railing for dear life. He looked over at Patrick, who was grimacing, in pain. 

“Stevie, can you shut that thing off?” David yelled down. 

“Give me a minute!”

So David crawled over carefully to where Patrick was hunched against the wall, his knuckles white from grabbing onto the doorjamb. David put his body between Patrick and the whirlpool to ease the pressure of the vortex’s pull. He looked at the angel, he was disturbingly pale.

“You saved my skin back there.” 

“Of course, I did. I had no choice.” Every word looked like it pained him to get out. David moved closer. 

“Are you okay?” He tried to move Patrick’s arms from where they were clutched around his side. But the angel wouldn’t budge. 

“I think he nicked me a little on the way down.”

“But he already nicked you before?” 

“Why did he have a sword like that?”

“I used to date bad boys. Really bad boys.” 

“Oh, and has your taste changed now?”

“More than you’d think.”

Patrick tried to laugh but instead he hissed in pain. Every ounce of humour felt like it was drained from David’s body. 

“Let me see,” he said, his voice grave.

“David. It’s fine.”

“I’m not going to ask again.” And the angel moved his arm, which made a slick sticky sound as it parted from his wrecked shirt. 

“Angels aren’t supposed to bleed.” 

“It’s not blood.” 

“It’s red and sticky.” 

“It’s not. I don’t have time to explain. But. It’s bad.”

“I can see that.”

“I need to rest. I think I will be okay. If I can just rest.”

“I think you’re going to need a little bit more than that.” 

“No, David. Look. It’ll be okay.” 

“What if it’s not okay? Is there a chance of that? You have to tell me if there’s a chance of that.”

“I don’t know how deep he got me. But I’m still lucid. That’s something.” 

David tried to breathe, as Patrick looked at him. Waves of pain seemed to come and go. The vortex showed no signs of stopping, but David didn’t know how long it had been. The passage of time stopped making sense. He had never seen an angel in pain before. It was not something he ever thought he’d see. 

“David,” Patrick said, his voice hoarse now, the pain was getting worse, “if I don’t make it, will you convince the next guy to let you keep the store?”

“What next guy? There’s no next guy Patrick, don’t say that.” 

“I don’t know right now, David. I’m just saying. I love the store. I think… I think you’ve done good. For the community.”

“I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the community. Just hold on. Stevie will close the portal and we’ll make sure there’s no need for any next guy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“You’re a good person, David Rose.” 

“I’m not even a person.”

“I know.” Patrick shuddered with pain again, but he kept his eyes open, strangely alert. David braced himself, he took a breath. He knew what he had to do. He knew that he couldn’t take back this back. But he had to. 

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do but I don’t think I could go on if I didn’t at least try.”

“What are you talking about?”

“God,” he said, looking up, “I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me.”

“David, what—?”

David leaned down and kissed the angel. Like he’d seen humans do a thousand times. Like he’d done with humans and other demons and witches a thousand times. But it was nothing like any of that. He felt Patrick’s initial jolt of surprise, but then Patrick shocked him in turn by softening, melting into David’s arms. David learned that Patrick made small, almost imperceptible noises when David’s tongue brushed against his. He knew that the gorgeous pink blush made his face glow and his body hummed where it was pressed against David’s. 

He didn’t know angels could do that, could feel this, and maybe he was pretending, for David’s sake, because he pitied him. He was being really pitiful right now, with the way he was desperately pressing his mouth against the angel’s. David was holding on as tightly as he could, as if stopping would make the angel vanish from his arms. He didn’t know how he’d waited this long to feel this. Every part of it felt like it was millennia in the making. 

Suddenly, Patrick went very, very still in David’s arms. And David felt the ground fall away from underneath him. In fact, everything had gone still. Stevie had closed the portal. These thoughts were dim, distant in his mind.He looked around, despondent, trying to reorient himself. He was in the middle of nowhere, in a ramshackle house, and he had lost his best friend. He sat with that feeling, it was like an overwhelming din in his ears. _What was he going to do?_ He looked around desperately for an answer, but felt like his vision was going blurry. 

The angel’s wings were splayed out, a flurry of white across the barren wood floor. Helplessly, he reached his hand over and began to stroke the wings, feeling the indescribable softness of the feathers. It grounded him. He’d always dreamed of this, never dared to try. He wished more than anything he would have tried. Soon the movement of his fingers became ritual, it became mindless.

So he barely noticed when Patrick stirred. But then he did. 

“Stevie!” he called, a bubble of hope caught in his throat. 

 

—

 

In the few days it took for Patrick to rest and recover, something came over David that seemed to entirely possess him. He rarely left the angel’s side, bringing him books and watching baseball with him even though he had famously said organized sport was the most inane human creation that was ever conceived. It was nice, the angel hated to admit it. The attention and the doting was strangely pleasant and it made the painful recovery process a little easier. But he wasn’t sure how to express this to David. Or even if he _should_. 

On his first day back to the store, he came in early, when he liked it. It was tranquil for lack of customers, and usually for lack of David. But the demon had become his shadow in recent days and was somehow there before him, quietly stocking the shelves. He only glanced back to smile shyly at Patrick before returning to his work. It was incredibly weird. 

Patrick made his way to the counter, but then he stopped in his tracks. 

“Did you make me a tea?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Did you put something in it?”

“I don’t have anything that could drug you,” he said, hastily remembering to add, “unfortunately.”

“So then… why?”

“Why? I don’t know, because you… like it?”

“You made me a tea because I like it?”

“Am I not being clear or something?”

“Is this for… I mean is it about…” Patrick supposed they would have to talk about it eventually, now was as good a time as any, “Is this because you kissed me?” 

David covered his face in his hands, “Oh! Oh… no. I mean. That was… that was like a nervous reaction sort of thing,” he took away his hands and the sight of Patrick’s expression sent him spiralling. He scrambled for an answer, an excuse, anything, “because I thought you were going to… well. I don’t know if you can die but you were hurt and I was scared. I didn’t know you could get hurt. I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

Patrick had gotten closer to him, somehow, without him noticing. “David? Hey. It’s okay.” 

The rapid spin of the gears in his head slowed for a minute when he looked at the angel. His gaze was soft, earnest like he never really was any time else. 

“I mean, it was entirely inappropriate, but you don’t have to freak out. We can talk about it.” 

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t really sorry. He couldn’t make himself regret even a second of it. Not that he was exactly sure what regret felt like. 

“I’m sorry too. For kissing you back.” Patrick said, but he stared at David’s lips as he said it. 

“I understand if you’d want to leave. I can take care of the store. Or get rid of it. Or we can call off the truce, or—.”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Patrick interrupted his spiral, putting two firm hands on either side of his face. David’s eyes flicked around nervously. They were in full sight of anyone who looked into the store, or potentially walked in. Patrick seemed oblivious to that fact, and singularly focused on David’s face. 

“I don’t want to do any of that.” 

“Then what do you want.” 

Patrick looked away then, pained suddenly. His hands dropped away and David instantly missed the feel of them against his skin. “I don’t think I can have what I want.” 

David reached out then, helplessly, and rested his hands on Patrick’s shoulders, anchoring him in place. He looked at him, then, quelling the terror that was swirling in his chest. 

“I’ll be honest with you, angel, I’m not a hundred percent sure I know what you’re talking about. In fact, I’m only about seventy-eight percent there. But. If what you want happens to somehow be… me… then you already have me. You’ve had me the whole time."

“David, obviously we can’t. We’re not on the same side.” 

“I’m on whatever side you’re on.” He was scared he was starting to sound a little desperate. 

“How could we ever explain…?”

“Who said we had to explain ourselves to anyone?” 

“David, I can’t _run off_ with you.”

“Why not?”

“I have a duty… I have a responsibility.” David wasn't sure whether or not Patrick was talking to himself, his gaze was distant.

“I know.” David responded, and he felt his heart sink a little anyway. “Look, it’s only if you want to. I’m happy to just be business partners, or friends, or whatever we were.” 

“I don’t exist just to pursue my personal happiness, that’s not what I’m supposed to do.” 

“I understand. But I don’t think I’m asking for much…”

“Don’t you see? You didn’t have to ask.” 

David grabbed the lapels of Patrick’s shirt then, without thinking, and drew him in or a kiss. He acted on nothing but impulse, and he was convinced that would come back to bite him. Yet Patrick pressed into the kiss, reaching his own hands up to cradle David’s face once again. 

“I always wondered why humans do that,” Patrick said, pulling away. David rested his forehead against his. 

“I told you, it’s important that you experience human things.”

“Oh, what to understand them better?”

“Exactly.”

“I think I understand why they’re so miserable all the time.”

“Oh, no. That’s probably my fault.”

“But I also think this is why they’re happy.” 

“Aren’t you always happy, angel?”

“Not like this.” 

“What about your responsibility?” 

“I probably stopped thinking about that the minute we went into business together.”

“It took you that long?”

“Yeah… when did you…?” 

“Same time as you.” David’s mouth twisted, the way it always did when he was lying.

“Has it been a lot longer? Have I just not seen it?”

“It’s not your fault.” 

“Well. I see it now. I see you.” David buried his head in Patrick’s neck to hide his blush. He felt the deep rumble of the angel’s laugh. “And hey, there are far worse ways to make the small town circuit interesting.” 

 

—

 

“I’m not letting you pick the movie this time David, you picked it the last four times.” 

“Again, my literal job is to curate.” 

“Yeah, curate souls to be damned.” 

“What’s your point?”

“Guys! Here’s a crazy idea. How about _I_ pick the movie.”

“Yeah, no Stevie, that idea is insane.”

“Okay, David, need I remind you, we are in my apartment.”

“And?”

“And, that means I’m picking the movie.”

“Great, I love made-for-TV Halloween specials. Ow!” David protested when Stevie hit him with the remote, but he guessed he deserved it. Patrick chuckled. 

“This one’s great, it’s got one of my top five goat sacrifice scenes.” 

“Oh god, can’t we watch something nice and romantic?” 

“You’re more whipped than I thought.”

Patrick laughed and gazed fondly at David, who cleared his throat then, cheeks flushing red. “Just kidding, haha, I love goat sacrifices. Yum. Let’s do that.”

“Just what I thought.” Stevie laughed, and she pressed play. “And by the way, I will tolerate no commentary about what they did or did not get right about the era.” 

“Don’t worry, David,” Patrick said to the pouting demon, “I’ll keep you distracted.” 

**Author's Note:**

> it's the good omens au you never knew you wanted or needed... 
> 
> i have to credit manic_intent's amazing the man from uncle good omens au [**Midnight Clear**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941369) for being one of the best good omens aus i've ever read and inspiring this one, especially with the way i went about positioning schitt's creek characters into the rules of the good omens universe (because they do it SEAMLESSLY, i could only try to emulate it). 
> 
> the title is from a lizzo song but the song doesn't really "fit" the story it's just a bop


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